Thursday, May 18, 2006
There shall be a dearth of torpid bovines
Well, I called the agency and got rid of Dozy Cow. She'll finish the week and we'll get someone new on Monday. *whew*
She never shuts up. Never. I just want to hit her. And she keeps interrupting me when I do get a nanosecond to leap in with some training. Listen, lady, SHUT UP already and listen to me when I'm talking to you. See my lips moving? That means yours shouldn't. I don't care if Maytag has licensed the Magic Chef name to some company, it has nothing to do with what we're doing here, so stop gabbing about it.
She's complained so many times about how grubby it is here that I'm tempted to just hand her the bottle of 409 and have her go to town on the place. Maybe I'd slip into unconciousness from the fumes. It's either that or she'll bore me to death. If you're working in a manufacturing facility, it is ridiculous to expect the place to be immaculate. Especially when the company won't spend a dime to update the place and the commodities we ship out of here are sticky and icky and gooey. Makes for kind of a messy place. The office is not dirty, it's just old. And yes, I suppose they could paint it, but to waltz in here on your first day and ask me when they're planning on painting is just a tad presumptuous. So, buh-bye now.